


A Place Beyond  cruelty.

by TayBartlett9000



Category: All Creatures Great and Small (TV), The Plague Dogs - Richard Adams
Genre: ARSE research laboratory, Animal Love, Animals, Coniston, Friendship, Gen, Hope, Kindness, Love, TLC, Winter, Yorkshire, compassion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TayBartlett9000/pseuds/TayBartlett9000
Summary: Siegfried Farnan finds two dogs lying in the snow   at the  side of the road, dogs that have  journeyed all the way from Coniston in the Lake District and that have a dark story of their own. But the circomstances that drove the dogs to Yorkshire doesn't matter to the vets. What matters is that every animal deserves the tender loving care of a human, and the compassion of a human heart.





	A Place Beyond  cruelty.

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who has felt the unconditional love of an animal and who strives to give it back.

“Have  you seen this story in the paper? It’s caused quite a stir with farmers.”

James Herriot walked sleepily into the kitchen, catching sight of Siegfried sitting  at the table, a paper spread across his breakfast plate. The older man was patiently perusing the paper  but he looked up as James entered.

Sitting down at the table opposite Siegfried, James shook his head. “What story’s that then?”

                Siegfried folded the newspaper over  and showed James the article over which he was showing so much  interest. “Apparently,” he began, “two dogs have escaped from the Arse research laboratory up in Konniston and they’ve been causing a great deal of trouble in the Yorkshire dales. Farmers have been complaining  about their sheep being killed, and they reckon that the two dogs did it. Take a look if you like.”

Handing the  newspaper to James, Siegfried settled  back in his chair and resumed his breakfast.

James read through the article carefully, noting the names of the Yorkshire farmers who had put in  compalints  about the escaped dogs. Many farmers it seemed had been  experiencing trouble and he wondered what could have caused two dogs  to behave in such a way. Of course, unruly animals disturbing life up in the farms of Yorkshire was not  unheard of, but  James was sure that animals that had  spent their lives  mainly within the four walls of  one of those research laboratories would make for  very unhappy creatures. Perhaps they had  experienced abuse of some kind while they had been shut away in the lab. It was the only thing he could think of as an explanation for such a sudden spate of attacks.

“Are you going up to the dales today?” James asked as the door opened, revealing the still desheveled form of Tristan standing in the doorway and looking balefully at the two men seated at the table.

Siegfried nodded, lifting a mug of tea to his lips and draining it in one. “Yes. I’ve been asked to go up and see one of the  sheep that has been injured. The farmer’s pretty angry  about it, let me tell you. I don’t think it’ll be a very enjoyable  visit. Those people  can be difficult at the best of times.” He rose to his feet and gave Tristan a single sideways look  full of meaning. “I do hope that you can find the time to get some work  done today, Tristan.” Turning to James, he added, “I’ll see  you at lunchtime, James. Can you take  over surgery duties this morning?”

James nodded brightly. He always enjoyed surgery despite the difficulties he sometimes endured at the hands of anxious owners. “Sure.”

Siegfried left the room and James   began to eat silently, mind still full of images of the two dogs alone on the fells. Siegfried and the newspapers had stated that the dogs had escaped from a laboratory outside Coniston. They had managed to run  a fare way across England. If they had managed to make it from the Lake District to Thirsk, then it was doubtful that the research laboratory would find them in a hurry. Or perhaps they would. The newspapers had stated that the scientists at ARSE were searching for them and James frowned. He had never been too inthusiastic about scientists  using animals for research purposes. He   didn’t feel sympathy for those people. No sympathy at all.

Rising and making for the door, he left the  dining room and entered the surgery, preparing for a morning spent looking after sick dogs, cats and rabbits. He loved his job, even  despite the difficulties.

x.

Snitter lay in the snow, his entire body going numb as the ice formed around him. The slowly brightening sky was lying above him in a thick blanket of iron grey and he whimpered pittiously as the snow continued to fall down around him. Why had the white coats done this? Why were they determined to see him and Rowf suffer so? He could not answer  these questions. How and why were questions that were beyond his own mind.

A  wet nosed nudge from Rowf caused Snitter to raise his head and look miserably  into the face of that shaggy black dog who had protected him so  well thus far.  Rowf’s eyes were full of  dark  unhappiness as he nudged Snitter  beneath the chin.

“What is it,  Rowf?” he asked in  as strong a voice as he could, despite the fact that the cold was beginning to bite hard into his soul, “what’s wrong?”

Rowf’s low growl reached his ears as  from a great distance. “We need to get up from this place,” he said quietly, struggling up and giving Snitter a gentle lick on the muzzle, “we’ll die here if we don’t move on.”

Snitter wasn’t willing to rise. He raised his head and eyed Rowf with subjection. “What about the Tod?” he asked dejectedly, “we can’t just leave without making sure that he’s alright, can we?”

Rowf wasn’t pleased. He leaned down and licked gently at the  soar patch expanding across Snitter’s head. The hateful  chicken wire had finally come lose, but the blood and pain was advancing quickly, turning Snitter’s mind against him. “We can’t wait for the Tod to come back, Snitter,” he said  gently, “he isn’t coming back for us. That damned  animal doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Never forget that. Now, come along and let’s go and see if we can find shelter. The white coats won’t stop with the snow, you know. It’ll only get worse.”

Finally accepting the truth  and inevitability of this, Snitter struggled to his feet, nudging Rowf’s flank and starting off up  the fell.

The  ground bit hard at Snitter’s delicate pads as he scampered up the ridge  after Rowf, nose catching as many scents as he could and finding precious little to smell. Though he had started up the fell  at a decent rate, Snitter tired quickly and he found that after a few straight lopes up the  slope, he could  not  walk much further.  He collapsed to the ground with a heavy sigh, knowing not where he was or even whether  or not he was in a safe place. He felt a heavy thud at his side and knew that Rowf had chosen once again to stay beside him. Snitter was grateful for the other dog’s  friendship. Rowf would not abandon him  as the Tod had. Rowf would make sure that Snitter one day returned to his loving master, whether Rowf believed in the kindness of masters or  not.

Snitter drifted in and out of sleep, his tongue lolling out and the pain  inside his  tortured mind increasing too quickly for him to bare. He could think of nothing to do but let the blackness of sleep pounce  upon him, releasing him from the terror of his waking moments. In sleep, the white coats could not attack him. In sleep, his loving master could return to him. In sleep, Snitter and Rowf could dwell in safety. Sleep then was Snitter’s  best option.

x.

Siegfried Farnan drove up the icey fells, driving as carefully as he could in order to ensure that he didn’t make  an  unholy mess of the car. The  sun  was rising now, hanging low over the horizon as he  drove onwards, eyes scanning left and right as he noted the sheep standing huddled together in the fields. The hardy sheep  of Yorkshire  had been bread to withstand the harshness of  Winters in the north of England and Siegfried smiled at  the toughness that they exuded.  ‘Yorkshire,’he thought happily, ‘there isn’t any place like it in the world.’

A dark shape lying on the side of the road to Siegfried’s right caught the man’s attention and  he brought his car to a halt, examining the  shape more closely. With  shock, Siegfried recognised the shape of an animal lying in the snow and he clambered out of the car, wondering what kind of animal had got itself in such a mess.

Knealing at the side of the road, Siegfried examined the animal more closely, recognising the shape of a shaggy black labradore lying there motionless, as if dead. The dog was pitifully thin and Siegfried sighed in  sympathy.  The poor dog. Reaching out a hand, he stroked it through the dog’s thick furr, provoking a  long sigh and a blink of the eyes. He smiled. At least the poor thing was still  alive.

A rasping lick awoke Siegfried’s attention to  the fact that the shaggy black dog was not alone. Beside him sat a smaller dog, a pretty  faced animal with a large gash across its  head. The dog was  sitting in the snow, eyes staring at the human knealing at its side,  watching Siegfried with what seemed to be  unmistakable intelligence. It was a beautiful thing, a white, chocolate and tanned smooth fox  terrior by the look of it. Siegfried could see that despite the  little  thing’s injuries,   he was in a much finer shape than his larger  companion.

“I think we’ll  have to get you two back to the surgery,” he said in as gentle a voice as he could, causing the terrior to look up at him with a   feable wag of his tale, “I think you could do with some help, don’t you,  pretty fellow.”

With that, Siegfried  stood, lifting the terrior into his arms, an action that was  greeted with a gentle  lick  from the  grateful dog. Moving to the back of the car, Siegfried lay the small dog gently in the back before turning and  lifting the black labradore  into the car and laying him beside his companion.   The larger dog put up  a struggle as he was lifted from the ground, but his protestations were weak and Siegfried got him into the car with little trouble. He noted how thin the two dogs were and he  smiled down at them. “Don’t worry,” he said kindly, “we’ll make  sure  to look  after you at the surgery.”

As he drove back down the fells, thinking that  the farmer  with the injured sheep would not at all be happy with  the lateness of his impending visit, Siegfried pondered over the  two dogs who were now sleeping in the back of his warm car. His  mind flashed back to the article that he had read over the breakfast table and  wondered whether these two could indeed be the same dogs. It wasn’t likely, but he had to admit that it was certainly possible. He  hadn’t examined them too closely upon lifting them into the car so he had been unable to identify any  distinguishing   signs that would inform him of where these dogs had come from. He didn’t  suppose that mattered. It was a vet’s job to take care of a sick animal despite where said animal had come from. Duty and care were  a  vet’s watch  words,  with  compassion also being  at the top of that list.

Skeldale  House was    bustling with  activity as Siegfried drove up to the doors and clambered out. Making his way into the surgery, he saught out Herriot and gave him the order to come out to the car. Without a word, James followed  him out, wondering what had brought his partner  home at such a swift pace.

James Herriot  had to admit surprise as  Siegfried opened the car door and  showed him the dogs that were sleeping in the back.  His eye brows shot  up and he turned to the  man at his side. “Where did you find these two?” he asked.

“On the fells,” the other man replied, lifting the terrior out  of the back and holding him in his arms for a moment, gladdened by the fact that the little dog’s condition hadn’t grown any worse since he had picked them up. “I don’t know  where they came from but they were both lying in the snow half dead, it looked like.”

James  was examining the larger dog  and as he lifted him out of the car, he frowned. “I think I do,” he replied, pointing to the green  coller around the dog’s neck. “He came from that research  laboratory outside Coniston. Look. The  initials written on the back. It’s pretty muddy but I think  you can just about see it.”  He pointed to the letters printed on the back of the   labradore’s coller, the lettering that spelled the word arse, a rather  tasteless but apt name for  the  name of a research laboratory.

Siegfried was already making his way towards the doors of Skeldale house. “Never mind all that, let’s get them inside and get them looked at. We can deal with where they came fromn later. Alright?”

James followed Siegfried into the surgery and  plonked the labradore down  on the table, bending to examin him closely. Aside from an obvious lack of weight and a few cuts and  abrasions, he could see very  little signs of any  injury. He was weak. That appeared to be all.

Siegfried’s charge, the small terrior, was not in as good a shape. “Oh you poor bugger,” Siegfried said quietly, “what in the name of  God happened  to you? Who did this to you?”  He examined the deep gash on the little dog’s head and frowned. It was a really deep wound and it looked to him as if there was infection there as well. This poor dog had been through the ringer at no mistake. “Never mind about all that now lad,” he was saying gently, stroking the side of the dog’s face, “James and I will sort you out. You’re safe with us.”

x.

Snitter heard the man’s gentle voice and liked what he was hearing. The man’s voice was similar to that of his master, though his smell was not the same. The obvious kindness in that voice was earily familiar though and Snitter thumped his tale weakly, wishing to let this human know that he was grateful for the rescue. Though he  didn’t know the man who stood stroking his face and speaking to him so softly, Snitter knew that he was safe in the company of this man. Perhaps he had found one of the masters who had eluded him so far along his difficult journey. Rowf had been wrong, in fact. The masters had not vanished. They were still there, somewhere, and could be found if a dog knew where to look. Snitter wagged his tale again and licked the hand of the man stroking him, glad that he had collapsed where he had. If he had not, maybe he would have died out there in the snow. But he hadn’t died. He was here, safe in the company and care of this man. As the unknown human set to gently cleaning the badness from his head, Snitter allowed sleep to close in upon him once again. His wound still hurt, but now, it was a blessedly clean hurt and he knew that he was out of danger. After such a long time traveling across the snowy countryside, Snitter and Rowf were in fact safe. He could sleep now. He didn’t have to run any more.

 


End file.
